


Misplaced Charity

by lostone113



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Kanima Jackson Whittemore, M/M, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-05
Updated: 2014-07-06
Packaged: 2018-02-03 13:24:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,213
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1746245
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lostone113/pseuds/lostone113
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles never wanted to run with wolves or face down psychotic serial killers, he had faced two now and he was sure more were to come. But Stiles always fancied himself as Batman and Batman's gotta do what he has to.</p><p>So when he finds out Derek bit Jackson he goes out on a branch to help even if he hates the guy. He never expected it to evolve into what it did or the changes in his life that would happen.</p><p>Plus, it looks like another serial killer is coming to town and Stiles and the Pack are his targets. Stiles just can't get a break and enjoy high school can he?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Moonlight Beginnings

**Author's Note:**

> Hey everyone! This is my first fanfic so I hope this isn't gonna be a trainwreck. I don't have a beta editor/reader so if you find any mistakes I apologize. I do tend to overlook most of my own errors. Othwerise I hope you all enjoy! I'm gonna try and get out at least a chapter every week.

Stiles knew Jackson, well he knew Jackson as much as years of torment, bullying, and verbal abuse could teach him. So Stiles knew that he shouldn’t be doing this, heck he should leave Jackson to his own horrible, selfish, and vain actions. But he couldn't, not with lives at stake.

Stiles was smart, he can pull seemingly random threads of thought together and weave them together into a larger picture. Into something that no one else could see or think about. So he had to act before that asshole did something rash and more than likely harmful to someone other than his smug self.

Stiles tapped his fingers rhythmically over his steering wheel, staring into the burned out husk of the Hale house. House wasn't the right word; it was more a burned out shell than anything else. His car lights illuminated the charred wood frame and he was still arguing with himself to go in. His jitters were at an all time high. He may have mistaken his Adderall for headache medication, but that just kept him awake. He blamed the horrific events that had happened here not long ago for his jitters and slight fear. It wasn’t often one set an alpha werewolf on fire, then saw not one but two people killed that night.

He would have left by now, but he needed to talk to Derek. He knew the Sourwolf was here, the flash of twin red eyes in the window confirmed it.

Stiles pulled out his key and flipped the switch to keep his Jeep’s lights on. He might be crazy, but he wasn’t going to face Derek with nothing more than the faint light of the half-moon. Stiles stepped out and slammed the car door. Not a moment later Stiles' back met the door of his precious Jeep. Typical Derek.

“What do you want.” Derek growled into his ear. His eyes flashed red and teeth already long and sharp. Stiles froze for but a moment, but he couldn’t keep his mouth shut. The situation was far too familiar for him to quiver at Derek's actions. Even Derek's red eyes were more controlled than the fire's of Peters.

“Hey Sourwolf! I was looking for you.” Stiles said, the words flew out of his mouth in a babble. Most people couldn’t keep up with him, but Derek wasn’t most people. Not with super enhanced senses and that snarky attitude.

“What do you want?” Derek asked, his voice more a growl than speech.

“What makes you think I want something?” Stiles shot back, “Maybe I just wanted to visit the friendly local alpha. I thought we moved past the entire you pushing me against walls thing.”

Derek pulled back so his teeth weren’t inches away from Stiles throat. “It’s three in the morning, what do you want?”

“Three in the morning is the perfect time for a visit. A rendezvous under the pale moonlight discussing wolfy matters couldn’t be any better.”

“What do you want Stiles?” Derek growled again. His eyes flashed red in the darkness. Stiles grin faltered for a moment, the eyes looked too much like Peter’s. Stiles forced a smile, he had to do this.

“Did you give the bite to Jackson?” Stiles asked. His voice firm and determined.

Derek growled and pushed Stiles back against the Jeep. The car tilting under the pressure.

“Why do you care?”

Stiles fought a little to draw breath. Derek was applying a little too much pressure for him to breathe right. “Cause we don’t need another werewolf killer in beacon hills.”

It was a low blow, but words were the only weapons Stiles had. Derek dropped him and Stiles placed a hand on the rocking Jeep to stop himself from falling.

“He won’t be a killer.” Derek said defending Jackson.

Stiles extended a hand and poked Derek’s firm chest. He banished the thought. Stiles needed to put a control on teenage hormones. But Derek gave him what he needed.

“So you did bite him. Why would you bite a douche nozzle like him?” Stiles asked, poking forward again. Derek grabbed his arm and growled. Derek twisted it and Stiles winced. The action hurt and was reminiscent of Peter offering him the bite not long ago.

“He asked I gave it to him. There’s nothing more to it.” Derek said. He pulled back and let Stiles go, one eyebrow raised. His eyes were back to his clear blue, glowing in the dark of the night. Stiles stayed close to his Jeep. It didn’t offer any true protection, but Stiles like to pretend he could at least get inside before Derek tried to kill him.

“What if he turns out like Scott? I know Jackson, you don’t. He won’t settle for listening to anyone but himself.” Stiles prattled gesturing wildly. “He’s an ass and if you thought Scott was stubborn, you haven’t seen Jackson.”

Stiles pointed again at Derek. “He used you. He’s not going to join your pack.”

“I know.”

Stiles froze and his gaze snapped towards Derek’s face. “You know?”

Derek shrugged. “He came here asking for the bite. The bite's a gift, either way it solves my problem."

Stiles narrowed his eyes, he didn't like what he was hearing, "You mean."

"The bite kills when it doesn't take Stiles. Either he joins us or he isn't a problem anymore."

"You can't just do that to people! Did you even tell him what could happen? What if he dies?"

Derek stilled, "Then he dies." He turned and started walking to the husk of the Hale house. "Go home Stiles this isn't your concern."

Stiles for once couldn't find anything to say. Derek disappeared into the shell of the Hale house. Stiles turned and slammed his hand on his car cursing under his breath. He knew Derek could hear him, the bastard, but he had a larger problem, Jackson.

 

\-------

 

Stiles hadn't approached Jackson right away. He had time, he hoped. He had other things on his mind to worry about anyway. Lydia was missing from the hospital, but the full moon was next Tuesday and he had to do something eventually.

Lacrosse practice was thankfully finished though. The streams of kids changing and cleaning up after another one of Coach Finstock's grueling practices. Even Stiles had to practice as hard as Scott and at this point Stiles wanted nothing more than to go home and pass out on his bed. While practice still had nothing on fighting and keeping up with werewolves, it still hurt. He only just crawled back to the locker room after everyone else had finished their showers.

"Why does Coach torture me?" Stiles whined taking off his lacrosse gear, "He never even lets me off the bench."

Scott turned, slipping on a shirt. "Maybe he thinks you might be ready for the field?" He said with optimism in his tone. Stiles wanted to shake his head.

"He doesn't even know my name." Stiles protested. "It hurts right here." He placed his hands over his heart.

Scott shoved him smiling. Scott's locker slammed shut and he lifted his bag higher on his shoulder. "Go take your shower," He tapped his nose. "You kinda stink."

Scott hurried past, ignoring Stiles indignant shout.

"I hope the puppies all get terrible gas you dick!" Stiles shouted after Scott. Several of the guys from the team looked over, but their gaze never lingered long, far too used to Stiles antics to pay any more attention than they had to. No one paid more attention to Stiles than they had to. Even Scott was paying less attention to him than he used to, the ass.

Stiles didn't pay much mind as the locker room cleared out. The loud, rambunctious teenagers flitting out in groups of laughter and horse play. He was almost without exception the last one out anyway. He closed his locker with a soft thud and turned intent on getting a nice hot shower before heading home. Maybe, just maybe, he could forget about everything for a minute or two.

It wasn't to be though. The sounds of running water from the sinks drew his attention. There rubbing at his shoulder was Jackson. Black ink smeared across his skin. The bite inflamed and visible between Jackson's spread fingers.

"Jesus Jackson." Stiles said. He dropped his things and hurried to Jackson's side.

Jackson turned, a shocked and scared expression crossing his face before he saw who it was. Then his eyebrows knit together and that trademark scowl filled his features.

"What do you want Stilinski? I don't have time for you." He sneered. His hand still covering the bite.

Stiles pointed and poked Jackson. "You better make some time buddy, cause the full moon's next Tuesday and I don't have time to deal with another homicidal wolf."

"I don't need your help," Jackson protested, but Stiles cut him off.

"Do think this would be all superpowers and happy times? You fucking saw Peter. This isn't sunshine and rainbows."

Jackson grunted and more black ooze seeped between his fingers. Stiles finally looked at Jackson, pale faced and angry. There was something underneath all that something he recognized in the mirror, fear. Stiles didn't give Jackson a moment to react before he darted forward. With one hand grabbing the paper towels Jackson had on the sink. His other hand grabbed Jackson's wrist and pulled the hand away from the infected bite.

"Jesus Jackson, how bad is it?"

Jackson grunted, but seemed to fold into himself. "It just started doing this during practice."

Jackson slammed a fist down on the sink.

"It wasn't supposed to be like this." He mumbled.

Stiles was both relieved and sighed when the white porcelain didn't so much as crack. Werewolf strength wasn't a go then. Did this mean Jackson wasn't taking to the bite? But that meant. Stiles shoved the thought out of his mind. He had seen enough death already and wasn't going to let that happen again.

"Well, it's happening buddy. When did Derek bite you?" Stiles asked, wiping off the black ooze. It smeared over Jackson's pale skin. Stiles threw the towel away and grabbed another.

Jackson grit his teeth, stood tall squaring his shoulders, and shoved Stiles back. "I don't need your help." He repeated avoiding the question. His cold demeanor returning.

Stiles backed off with his hands up. "Maybe not right now, but Scott's bite? It healed overnight. That," He gestured to Jackson's shoulder. "Is only getting worse. But what do I know? I'm only the human that figured out this entire thing for the two failwolves."

A moment of silence stretched between them broken by the sound of running water and Jackson's heavy breathing. Stiles kept his mouth shut for once, no one could attribute it to him, but Stiles was observant and as much as he hated Jackson. He didn't want the douchebag to end up dead and if that bite was any sign Jackson's chances weren't looking too good. He might not even make it to the full moon at this rate.

Jackson opened his mouth as if to reply, but instead shut it. His jaw tightened and he looked right at Stiles. Jackson's gaze met Stile's and he spat out, "I don't need any help from you loser."

Stiles back off any thought of helping extinguished. He turned and leaned down to pick up his dropped towel. Stiles stopped, as much as Jackson was an ass it didn't mean he had to be one too.

"Danny has my number if you need me." He said without looking back. If he had, he might have seen the lost yet hopeful expression that crossed Jacksons face. But he didn't.

"Good luck surviving till the full moon, ass."


	2. Of Unexpected Runins

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So welcome everyone to Chapter 2! I love all the feed back you have all given me. I will be posting a chapter every Thursday or Friday so look out for them then! Enjoy!

School wasn't where Stiles wanted to spend a Wednesday before a full moon. He could be doing better things. Anything would be better than listening to Mr. Harris’ threats. But Stiles just couldn't keep still, not that he could even on the best of days. There was something though about today that set Stiles on edge more so than usual.

Lydia was still missing and there wasn't a single hint as to where she could be. Stiles had even dragged Scott out to the preserve yesterday to try and sniff her out. It ended in failure though as even Scott's wolfy nose couldn't track her down. Stiles considered asking Derek but he was as incognito as Lydia was and thus no help. Not that Stiles imagined he would be, maybe an alpha’s nose is better than a beta’s? He would have to ask.

It was an honest surprise when Stiles needed to take a bathroom break during Economics, only to find himself face to face with Jackson. Viscous black ooze leaking out of Jackson’s nose. His gaze fixed onto something he couldn’t. He began to choke on something that Stiles couldn't see.

Stiles hurried to help, before he could reach Jackson the choking stopped and his mouth opened into a soundless scream. One hand shot up to land on his neck. Stiles clamped a hand down on Jackson's shoulder and shook him.

He got out a rough, "Jackson,” when Jackson seized, and his eyes rolled into the back of his head. He collapsed. It was only from years of video games and lacrosse practice that Stiles reacted fast enough to catch him before Jackson could hit his head on the tile floor.

Stiles didn't know what to do and settled for laying Jackson down flat on the floor. His fingers came back black from where he had touched Jackson's shoulder. That wasn’t good. Jackson was rejecting the bite. He was going to die.

Stiles panicked drawing in quick short breaths, he needed to call help. Someone. Anyone. His hands fumbled for his phone. A firm hand grabbed his before he could try and do anything with it.

"Don't." A solid but shaky voice said, Derek’s.

Stiles turned following the thick forearm up to Derek's shoulder and face. Derek's jaw was tight and his eyes a little too wide. Anyone else would have missed it, but not Stiles, even in his panicked state, his mind couldn't focus on one thing. It was both his blessing and curse.

"What do we do?" Stiles asked. He let his hand fall when Derek released it. "We can't just leave him like this."

Stiles had some measure of respect for Derek. Even with all the trouble and hardship caused by Peter. Derek did seem to care and try and be helpful, most of the time despite Scott’s word to the contrary. Stiles looked back at Jackson noting how his chest rose and fell in sporadic fashion. Jackson's eyes were still closed but fluttered as they moved beneath his eyelids.

"There's nothing we can do." Derek said. "He has to fight it off himself."

Stiles watched as Derek frowned and clenched his hands into tight fists. Stiles couldn't accept that, not now. Maybe it was the protective urge he got from his father or the kindness his mother tried to instill in him. Either way Stiles needed to help Jackson, if only to hold it over his head later.

"Bullshit, he needs help." Stiles said and pulled back Jackson's shirt. The scent of rot and decay assaulted his nose. He winced surprising a gag, but forced himself to reach up and pull down several paper towels from the dispenser above him. He wiped away at the ichor and winced. It just kept oozing out of the bite. He pressed down on it in an attempt to stanch the flow. He wasn’t even going to start on the coming out of Jackson’s nose.

He turned and almost shouted at Derek but kept himself to a forceful whisper instead. It wouldn't do to have other people showing up right now. "Don't just stand there."

Derek didn't say anything but he shook his head. A haunted look in his eyes. He stepped back and was out the door a moment later. Stiles cursed. His fingers stumbled over his phone. He didn't know who to call, Scott wouldn't know what to do. Maybe Deaton, he was some weird supernatural guru right?

Jackson stirred and groaned. The pained cries drew all of Stiles' attention, by no means a small feat. Jackson opened his eyes and blinked in confusion. His gaze fell on Stiles and his eyes widened.

"What the hell Stilinski?" He shoved Stiles and pushed himself to his feet on shaky legs. His face was pale and voice weak.

"Creeping up on people in bathrooms Stilinski? That's a new low for even you." Jackson said. His heart didn’t seem to be in it. He acted more like an injured animal striking out at any possible threat.

Something in Stiles snapped. "At least I'm not developing a monthly problem. How's that going for you?" He asked.

Jackson flinched and refused to meet Stiles' eyes. "I don't need your help." He said, "There's nothing a loser like you can do."

Stiles shook his head resigned. Jackson would never accept help, except from maybe Danny. Stiles discarded the idea as soon as it came into his head. Danny didn’t need to be involved in all of this. Things were calm and no looming threats on the horizon, Jackson’s health issues aside.

“Maybe not,” Stiles replied. “But do you want to risk killing people? Do you want to go down in town as a murderer? Even Scott when he got bitten tried to kill me. Me! His best friend and do you think you can do any better? You who has famous anger problems both on and off the field? You would have blood on your hands before the night is out. The full moon is Thursday and you’re still floundering over the damn bite.”

Stiles knew he could be harsh, he knew that his words were his greatest weapon. It wasn’t like he had the muscle everyone else did. But Stiles didn’t want to be the bad guy here. Jackson had helped them when they needed him, even if it was self serving in the end.

He flinched when he took in Jackson fully; wide eyed and everything about his posture screaming fear and self defeat. Stiles reached out a hand. Jackson batted it away and squared his shoulders. His resolve was back and there was that good old Jackson that Stiles hated.

“I’m better than McCall ever was Stilinski.” Jackson said flashing Stiles his trade mark smirk, the effect ruined by the wince that followed. Jackson began to pass Stiles intent on leaving the bathroom when Stiles spoke up again.

“Danny has my number.” Jackson didn’t turn around or say anything but the pause in his step was telling enough. Stiles watched him leave.

——————

Stiles flopped onto his bed exhausted and ready to pass out, if his adderall would let him. It didn’t normally, a problem he solved by web surfing and researching until he passed out. His heart wasn’t in it tonight though. Nothing needed to be looked up, no imminent threat was looming over the horizon, Jackson excluded. Even the problem of Lydia had been solved when she had wandered naked out of the forest by the graveyard. Stiles had never wanted to see Lydia that terrified and lost. It went against everything he knew about her.

Stiles groaned, he should really just leave the problem of Jackson to Derek, he did start this mess. But if today’s meeting with Derek was any indication then he wouldn’t be helpful. He might even be detrimental. Stiles shook his head, he didn’t have time for this. Well he did since Scott had ditched him for a midnight rendezvous with Allison, again. Since apparently finding the best friend of your secret girlfriend in the graveyard got you a sweet make out session.

Stiles wasn’t jealous but this was seriously digging into time he was able to spend with Scott. Not that he was begrudging Scott his time with Allison. Scott needed the break after everything that happened. Stiles turned over on his bed cell phone in his hand. There was a dark figure with red eyes in his window and Stiles froze.

The figure stepped forward and landed with a thud. It was Derek. Stiles let himself relax. As creepy as Derek was he wouldn’t kill Stiles, well at least not in his own home. Maybe, Stiles may or may not have taken precautions when Derek stayed over last. You never knew with temperamental werewolves.

“What do you want? You kinda bailed today with Jackson, not exactly good alpha behavior leaving your betas to fend for themselves.” Stiles said and twisted himself around so he sat facing Derek.

Derek scowled at him. Those bushy eyebrows drew together in a glare Stiles was almost immune to by now. He’d give it another few weeks before it didn’t even phase him. “You found Lydia.”

It was more of a statement than a question but those eyebrows don’t lie. The inquisitive raise before they dipped down again told Stiles everything he needed to know.

“Yup, no thanks you Sourwolf. She’s shaken but fine, like the goddess she is.” Stiles frowned and stood stepping over to Derek. “Where have you been? We kinda needed to keep a whole lid on the Lydia thing since you know she was bitten.” Stiles poked Derek in the chest. He really wasn’t thinking tonight.

“I had other problems.” Derek growled out. “Is she turned?”

“Is that all you care about? Really?” Stiles gave Derek a flat stare. Derek matched and raised an eyebrow mocking. Derek’s eyes flashed red and Stiles had to glance down. He wasn’t having this fight now. Stiles sighed, “What do you care, you can bite anyone you want to make a pack now can’t you just leave her be? She’s been hurt enough by this entire mess.”

Derek growled, “I need to know because I can’t afford another Scott in this town.”

“Scott is only a problem because he thinks you took away his one chance at a cure.”

“It was a fable it doesn’t work like that, how the hell would you expect betas to become alphas then?” Derek snapped out and stalked forward. Stiles stepped back tilting his head back to expose his neck trying to keep his distance from the irate alpha. He didn’t feel like having his throat ripped out tonight. Stiles knew it was an empty threat, mostly.

“Hey, defenseless human here. No need to go all wolfy on me I know what you can do.” Stiles said as he gestured wildly. “But to answer your question no, Lydia doesn’t seem to be turned. No wolfiness and no heightened senses. She’s as human as I am.”

Derek kept his gaze locked onto Stiles. He didn’t move and Stiles offered him one last tidbit of information. “If it’s any benefit to you she doesn’t remember anything. Well not anything about werewolves. She just thinks some crazy animal attacked her at prom.”

Derek nodded and turned to go. He was halfway out the window when Stiles asked him one last question. A question that had burned in his mind since Derek had become alpha and had bitten Jackson. “Have you bitten anyone else?”

Derek’s silent departure was answer enough.


	3. Full moons and Iron Chains

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry that I didn't post yesterday, work kinda got in the way there so here is this week's chapter. I hope you all enjoy!

Jackson hadn’t texted Stiles, hadn’t given any word on what was going on with his transformation. If Stiles hadn’t seen him at school and lacrosse practice then he would have assumed Jackson was dead. But Stiles had and so knew that Jackson was alive, if not well. He was still too pale, his hands shook when he thought no one was watching. But Stiles was.

So the night of the full moon, two days after their little bathroom incident. Stiles stood outside of Jackson’s house; moonrise less than a half hour away. What Stiles hadn’t known was Jackson’s parents being absent, a business trip he had no doubt. That worked into his plans.

Stiles hurried up the walkway to the Whittemore home. He scoffed, it was most like an estate than a home. Too pretty to be homey, too perfect to be comfortable. It looks like one of those perfect homes you can see in the magazines. Even now in February the lawn was perfect and cut neat, leaving just a hint of that faint cut grass smell on the air.

Stiles ignored that though and rang on the doorbell and shouldered his bag a little higher. Stiles had come prepared this time. Stronger chains with thick locks, better than those he had tried to use on Scott. They got him even stranger looks at the hardware store but Stiles would endure all the weird looks in the world if it meant he could keep people alive.

The door opened and the sour face of Jackson greeted Stiles. Jackson’s face twisted into a scowl as he saw who his visitor was.

“Stilinski.” He growled out, “What do you want?”

Stiles pointed inside, “We might want to have this discussion inside wolf boy. You don’t want the neighbors seeing would you?”

“You’re not coming in.” Jackson replied hints of anger laced his voice and he started to shut the door. The door slammed on Stiles foot instead. Stiles winced.

“Either we do this the nice way or I let Sourwolf know that he needs to come over and take you down.” It wasn’t a lie, Stiles would let Derek know but Stiles hadn’t seen Derek since Tuesday. Stiles suspected the involvement of the full moon was the cause, or the lack of trouble around that could be it too. Stiles shrugged off the thought.

Stiles could see that Jackson wasn’t happy about it but he opened the door all the way. Stiles stepped inside. When the door closed behind him Stiles turned and dropped the bag it fell to the marble flooring with a loud clang of metal on metal.

“What’s that?” Jackson asked. The scowl on his face dropping as curiosity and confusion won out.

Stiles shied away from the mention of chains, Scott hadn’t taken that well and he didn’t think that Jackson would take it any better. “Stuff to make sure you don’t kill anyone tonight.”

“I don’t need your help Stilinski.” Jackson said. He looked away from the bag and met Stiles gaze. Stiles looked back at him and kept it. He wasn’t going to back down now. He had beaten Jackson in this battle of wills before and he would again. Jackson looked down and away.

“You do. Would you like to go on a killer rampage? Because I can’t stop the Argent’s then. They would have you pumped full of wolfsbane before the next full moon. Your parents wouldn’t be able to save you then.”

Silence fell on the two of them. Neither wanted to break it. Stiles had delivered his ultimatum and his heavy handed offer of help. The ball was in Jackson’s court now. Jackson lost any color that his pale face had looking more like a zombie than the popular jock everyone knew him as. He opened his mouth then closed it, then opened it again.

“Fine.” He forced out.

“What was that?” Stiles pressed, he knew he shouldn’t but he couldn’t help himself. Jackson finally needed something from him. It was petty but Stiles never claimed not to be.

“I need your help.” Jackson forced out. He was shaking, from anger Stiles assumed.

“Good,” Stiles nodded. “Now where do you want this to happen? Cause your living room is kinda visible.” He gestured to the large window of the living room.

Jackson glanced at the window and winced. Without a word he turned and went deeper into the house. Stiles picked up his bag and followed. Jackson led him upstairs and into what Stiles assumed was his bedroom.

It was neat, tidy, and completely Jackson. Not a single thing was out of place, not a sock on the carpet or a t-shirt thrown on the bed. Various sports trophies lined one wall on the far end, nothing below a gold Stiles noted.

“Do you have a maid or something? Cause I knew your parents were rich but seriously, a maid that’s just crazy rich.” Stiles said as he flung the bag to the right of the bed. Jackson’s bed had a distinct lack of bedposts but Stiles could work with it. 

Jackson ignored the comment. Instead he sat on the bed and gave Stiles a dead pan expression. Stiles could see the anger in his eyes and shut up for a moment. Just a moment.

“So?” Jackson asked, “What does a loser like you do for me?”

Stiles didn’t say a word, for once he would let his actions speak for themselves. He pulled a long length of chain out of his bag and smiled at Jackson. Jackson’s eyes widened and he started sputtering. A smile tugged at the Stiles’ lips.

“There’ s no way in hell you’re using those on me.” Jackson said and stood. He backed away from Stiles.

Stiles shrugged, it’s this or nothing wolf boy. I can’t exactly keep you restrained myself here. I’m all sarcasm and wit incase you hadn’t noticed.” Stiles shot back and lifted the chains again for emphasis. “It’s this or you go crazy, and let me know. I might have enough time to escape before you go all bloodthirsty.”

Jackson took a deep breath and exhaled it. He forced himself to calm down. He nodded once and sat down on the bed. His body shaking with nerves, or the energy of the full moon.

“Alright then, now I have to loop this under your bed so it’s weight will tie you down.” Stiles crouched and threw a length of the chain under the bed, it was clean under there to his dismay. Did Jackson have no clutter? What kind of person was he?

Jackson didn’t say anything as Stiles worked. Stiles set the chains with painstaking care to ensure another Scott incident couldn’t happen. When he had finished and all the locks, seven of them, were ready to go he stood and faced Jackson.

“Alright, already Whittemore?” Stiles asked. Jackson didn’t respond. He didn’t turn and snark, he didn’t even twitch. His gaze had locked somewhere out of the window. Stiles followed his gaze and for a moment he couldn't understand what he saw. Then it hit him like a train, the moon was out.

Stiles’ gaze fell back on the unmoving Jackson and he dove. In a movement of agility Stiles often lacked, one hand picked up one of the manacles he had laid out and clasped it on Jacksons wrist. That got his attention.

Jackson turned his face smoothed of the annoyance he had earlier. It was instead replaced by a blank face. He looked like normal, no missing eyebrows or large bushy sideburns, and no fangs. Then Jackson’s eyes flashed yellow and the iris’s of his eyes warped into long slits like a reptile's. He hissed at Stiles and Stiles scrabbled back. He was not going to be wolf food tonight. Not if he could help it.

Stiles stumbled for his phone. The chain rattled as Jackson moved. Stiles had his phone unlocked and pressing the button to call Scott, rendezvous with Allison be damned, when Jackson smacked the phone out of his hands and it went flying. It landed with a crash. Then Jackson was looming over him. Stiles covered his head with his arms in an attempt to protect himself.

He waited, blood pumping, for those claws to come down and strike him. A beat, another, and no pain came. Stiles peaked between his fingers and met the eyes of Jackson, or what he thought was Jackson. He wasn’t a wolf. There was not enough hair for one thing.

Jackson’s skin had changed to scales and leathery skin. His weight sat over Stiles oppressive but not harmful. Jackson stared at him in curiosity. Stiles drew a deep breath and scooted himself back putting himself into a sitting position facing Jackson. Jackson didn’t try to follow with anything more than his gaze.

“Jackson?” Stiles asked trying to go with the flow. He was all for not getting his face ripped off by whatever Jackson had become. Stiles took in Jackson. He was still wearing his clothes but a long thick tail swayed behind him. The tail twitched once and Jackson raised one of his hands palms facing Stiles.

Stiles ripped his gaze from the tail to the hand, then to Jackson’s face. He couldn’t for the life of him tell what Jackson wanted.

“What do you want?” Stiles asked. “Like I have no experience here. Wolves, yeah? I can handle but lizard people? I’m floating adrift here.”

Jackson let out a sharp hiss. Stiles flinched and pulled back covering his head again with his hands. Jackson poked him with one of his long claws. Not enough to draw blood but enough to elicit a startled jump out of Stiles.

“What do you want?” Stiles shouted.

Jackson hissed in irritation and presented his hand again to Stiles.

“Okay, okay.” Stiles beached in deep in and let it out to hold off the panic attack he could feel rising. He was so unprepared for this but how could he have prepared for this? There was nothing that hinted this was even a possibility. He reached out with a shaking hand and placed his palm against Jackson’s. Jackson hissed in pleasure.

Stiles seized and tried to pull back but couldn’t. It felt like a thousand volts where running up his hand and arm. He let out a pained cry and fell to the floor, whatever force keeping his hand stuck fast to Jacksons relinquishing him. He felt rough hands cradle him and lift him from the floor. Stiles was then set down on the most comfortable mattress he had ever had the pleasure of lying in.

He groaned. Stiles felt a purring contentment in the corner of his awareness. Stiles opened his eyes. Color danced over his vision like a terrible aurora borealis. Jackson hissed and Stiles knew it to mean Jackson wanted an assignment, a task, a target.

Stiles pushed himself to sit. He was in the center of Jacksons bed facing outside the window. Jackson perplexed Stiles and Stiles didn’t like being out of the know. For whatever reason Stiles could understand those strange hisses Jackson made.

“Jackson?” Stiles asked. He felt confidant that Jackson wouldn’t maw him now. Well not kill him, a good maiming was still a possibility. You never knew with Jackson.

Jackson hissed, a sign of impatience this time. Stiles felt more than saw ideas of cold vengeance and betrayal flash through his head all coming from the corner of his mind. Stiles dubbed it Jackson space. Stiles fought back against the shaking and blurring vision he knew from experience came from panic attacks.

He felt a hand on his shoulder and a soft cooing filled his ears. A palm placed flat on his chest. Stiles used it as an anchor to pull himself back. He looked up, Jackson looked as pleased as Stiles imaged a lizard person could look. The mood changed and more images of vengeance flashed through Stiles’ mind.

“Okay you want vengeance?” Stiles asked. He was trying to process all of this. It was too much for him. Jackson nodded. 

“But I don’t have anyone I would need to avenge against,” Stiles explained. “Peter’s dead, everything is as good as it can get right now.”

Jackson hissed and images of a boy beaten by a man. A blond hair cherub, about Stiles age. Bruises littered the boys arm and each he knew that man, the boy’s father, had inflicted them. Stiles kept back the wave of nausea that threatened to engulf him.

“How do you know this?” Stiles asked.

Lizard Jackson pointed out the window to the house across the street. Stiles looked at the house then at Jackson. He felt a surge of anger and hatred at Jackson. He knew child abuse was happening and he didn’t do anything? Jackson cowed before the thoughts and before Stiles could utter a single word against him flashes of memory caught him. An anonymous phone call that led to more bruises on the blond boy. The boy denying everything to the police the second call. The bruises even worse the next time. The helplessness and then the sense of finality. Jackson as much of an ass he was had tried.

Stiles anger cooled but still the latent anger at the man remained. Who could do that to their own child? Stiles felt whatever link he had with Jackson latch on to that anger. It echoed in his head like a lock closing. Jackson hissed in pleasure and crawled to the window, he had it open before Stiles could register anything.

“Jackson wait!” Stiles shouted as he rushed to the window but Jackson was gone disappeared into the shadows of the night. Stiles looked around for something anything he could use. His eyes fell on Jackson’s phone. It lay forgotten on the bed. He called Derek a number he had memorized incase he ever lost his phone. He prayed Derek would pick it up tonight of all nights.

“What?” Derek’s rough voice sounded on the other end. “I don’t have time for your shit Stiles.”

“You do now, Jackson’s loose and he isn’t a werewolf.” Stiles said, Derek’s cursing was his reply. He felt a smug satisfaction from his link to Jackson. "And I think he might have killed someone."


	4. Waking Nightmares

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry this is late. I got swamped with school work and couldn't work on this for a while. But I powered out two chapters the other night so expect an update tomorrow! Thanks for all of your patience!

Stiles rubbed at his eyes trying to push back the weariness that threatened to overcome him. It wasn’t the first time Stiles had pulled an overnighter on a school night. It wouldn’t be the last. No what made this evening different from all the rest was the body lying in the bed on the opposite side of the room.

Stiles still had a hard time drawing breath. The connection in his mind shivered before flaring open. It had fallen silent since Jackson had returned to the room, scaled and all, before collapsing onto the bed and passing out.

Stiles had watched in twisted fascination as the scales faded into pink flesh. Claws dulled into trimmed nails. That a monster of the night turned into Jackson. That all had happened hours ago. Stiles had been unable to move since. He couldn’t tear his gaze away from Jacksons sleeping form. Stiles shuddered at the contentment that still radiated from him and the pale face of the man that died due to Stiles negligence last night.

Jackson had killed last night. He’d been wild, crazy, a lunatic. But what was even worse than all that was the undeniable fact that Stiles had limited control over whatever creature Jackson had become last night. That made him responsible for whatever life Jackson took. He had no doubt that his father would get the call for a new murder case. A man that died in his own pool, Jackson drowned the abusive bastard. Jackson had found the man lounging in the kitchen. He had snuck up on him and did something with his tail and the man seized up. Then a quick toss in the pool took care of the rest. Before Stiles could process the images that filtered through his head Jackson had climbed back in the window. Content.

Jackson stirred, the feelings of sleepy contentment drifted over the bond to Stiles. Stiles wished Derek could be here but alas it wasn’t meant to be. Derek had enough on his hands last night trying to control two wild betas. His beta, Isaac or something, had in some twist of fate had escaped from wherever Derek tried to keep him. It seemed like he wasn’t the only one with escaping supernatural creatures. Derek wouldn’t be available until later.  Maybe this time the sour would would have some answers.

Jackson sat up in bed rubbing his eyes. He turned to Stiles and jerked. “What the hell Stilinski? Watching me as I sleep, couldn’t get to be more of a pervert if you tried.”

Stiles ignored the jab. Jackson’s taunts and teasing paled in comparison to everything else. “What do you remember?” His voice was harsher than he intended it to be and he could see Jackson flinch. Worry and fear echoed from the link.

“Stilinski?” Jackson asked.

“What do you remember?”

Jackson shrunk back. It was not the first time Stiles could see the fear on Jackson’s face. It hit him all the harder when the link heightened the feeling of fear into to the sound of beating war drums. Like his heart was racing.

“There was the full moon, something about chains.” Jackson paused, “Then I passed out, right?” There was an edge of hopefulness to his tone.

Stiles shook his head. He didn’t want to crush that small hope Jackson had but he had to. He had to run damage control and if that meant forcing Derek to buy a cage for Jackson for the full moons than that’s what he was going to do.

“No Jackson, that’s part of what happened. You.” Stiles searched for the right words. In any other instance the words would flow from his mouth like water. Today it seemed like the river had dried up. “You’re not a werewolf.”

Jackson looked at him in confusion. “What do you mean Stilinski? What else goes crazy under the full moon?”

“I don’t know.” Stiles snapped. He stood and started to pace. A little more comfortable in the room now that Jackson had returned to his senses. A Jackson Stiles knew how to handle, some unknown monster he didn’t.

“You grew fucking scales last night Jackson. Even a tail! On the bright side your little shoulder wound disappeared” A look of alarm flashed over Jackson’s face. He glanced back as if hoping to catch a look at this supposed tail. One hand went to his shoulder were the bite mark once was, now a faded scar. The skin a shade lighter than the surrounding flesh.

Stiles pointed at his head. “And I can feel you inside my head.”

Jackson scoffed. “Yeah right Stilinski. That’s just crazy talk.” Jackson pushed himself to the edge of the bed. Whatever transformation he went through last night stripped him of his shirt but not his sweatpants. For that Stiles was thankful. He’d gotten enough of close and personal time with Jackson last night.

A dark smile crossed Stiles face and he pulled on the link then let it snap back. Stiles didn't know if it would work. He had only gotten the link last night and to be honest it terrified him. Jackson’s gaze went distant then refocused. He shot Stiles a fearful look.

“What the hell was that?” Jackson demanded as he stood up on shaky legs.

“That was the weird link that you formed between us last night.” Stiles said. “You went all lizard on me and bonded us somehow.” Stiles chewed his bottom lip. He was getting to the part where Jackson jumped out the window and killed someone. Stiles wasn’t one to pull his punches, especially with Jackson. But Jackson looked as if a stiff breeze could push him over. He shook and his hands clenched tight, the knuckles white. Stiles couldn’t bring himself just to say it out loud.

“You know the kid that lived across the street?” Stiles started. He had an idea on how to soften the blow.

“That kid Isaac?” Jackson said.

“You sure his name is Isaac?” Stiles asked, it was too much of a coincidence. Why couldn't his life be simple and predictable? Jackson nodded.

“Yeah, what about him?”

“Well you,” Stiles gestured. “Got all lizard like then sent me memories of his abuse. Gotta look into what that link can do.”

Jackson paled and let himself fall back on to the bed, staying upright. Stiles plastered a tight smile onto his face and said, “I got angry at you for a moment. Then you sent some more memories. I never knew you cared.”

A blush crossed Jackson’s features. “Shut up Stilinski.”

“Oh come on, you can’t tell me that after all these years. Jackson Whittemore has a heart. A small one granted, but still a heart.” Stiles poked fun at Jackson. Stiles noted the slump of Jackson’s shoulders and the shaking had stopped. He even felt some calm starting to come across the link. That might turn out to be handy.

“No one deserves that from their parents.” Jackson shot back, “But what about him?”

Stiles paused in his pacing. He turned and looked out the window unwilling to meet Jackson’s gaze. “Well lizard you needed vengeance. It needed something to focus on.”

“I’m not liking where this is going Stiles.” Jackson said. Stiles ignored the slip into his first name.

“I didn’t know what was happening until it was too late but those memories you sent me. I got so angry and you latched onto it. The link goes both ways you know.” Jackson frowned at that piece of information. His eyes narrowed as he focused.

“I can feel it. Like a small hole in the back of my mind.” He paused, “You’re afraid right now.”

Stiles nodded but he ignored Jackson’s gaze drilling a hole into his back. “You jumped out the window, and before I could do anything you had disappeared. I could feel you of course.” Stiles frowned, “I felt contentment coming from your end before you came back.”

There was the flash of worry in his mind that came from Jackson. “What do you mean?”

Stiles forced down the knot that threatened to choke him and still his words. He knew it wasn’t Jackson’s fault. If blame could lay at anyones feet, and it should be, it would be Stiles. He allowed Jackson to kill Isaac’s father. He only wondered how long it would take them to find the body. His only consolation was that the man was an abusive asshole.

“I slipped and you killed someone last night.”  Stiles forced out. He couldn’t bear to turn around. His phone buzzed in his pocket. He ignored it. It could wait.

He heard sheets rustling and Jackson stood up. “I” Jackson couldn’t say anymore. The link broadcasted a torrent of emotions that did nothing to help Stiles control his own. Stiles had forced down the thoughts earlier for the sake of his own mind, but now sharing them had opened the flood gates.

Stiles felt his eyes water and his sight blurred. He wiped away the forming tears. He turned and was met with a face full of Jackson. Jackson pushed him against the wall next to the window and the torrent of emotions settled into one. A bitter rage.

“You said you’d help me. You said you knew what you were doing.” Spittle few in Stiles’ face, but he couldn’t find himself to care. He deserved this and worse.

“I tried, but you didn’t exactly turn into a wolf Jackson. I was out of my league.” Stiles said. He drew berth in short quick gasps. Jackson’s forearm pinned to his neck making breathing a chore.

Jackson growled at him and his eyes flashed that same shade of electric blue that Derek had. Stiles mind couldn’t help but think on it. The adderall in his system not enough to quell his mind. Scott had amber eyes but Derek and Jackson had blue, was there some significance to it?

“Let me down Jackson, I did what I could.” Jackson pushed hard one more time but then pulled back letting Stiles fall back onto his feet. He stumbled but managed not to fall. Stiles didn’t miss the wince of pain that crossed Jackson’s face.

“Get out.” Jackson growled. The rage had simmered down into a mild hatred, ready surge into a mindless anger at a moment’s notice. Stiles couldn’t help but nod.

He got to the door of Jackson’s bedroom before he paused. He turned and said, “If Chris Argent asks I’ll tell him I spent the night here.” Stiles gestured to the chains. “I kept you locked up all night. You never left my sight.”

Stiles wasn’t going to let Jackson suffer for his mistakes. Jackson hadn’t killed anyone, that had been Stiles negligence. Chris wouldn’t care he’d put down Jackson no matter who was at fault. Jackson was an unknown, something he didn’t owe any apologies for.  Jackson nodded but said nothing. Stiles walked down the stairs and left the house letting the front door slam behind him. He was halfway down to his jeep when a heavy thud hit the ground next to him. He jumped.

There sitting on the manicured lawn was his bag. One end of a chain sticking out of it. Stiles glanced up and frowned. The window was open but Jackson wasn't there. He shrugged and ignored the confusion leaking from the link. He didn’t want to deal with Jackson anymore at the moment. He took out his phone, a missed text from Derek. There was an angry alpha to placate. Then school. There was no end to the misery upcoming in Stiles life. At least it was a Friday.


End file.
